Reflections
by Niriiun
Summary: Anger and anxiety all led up to this. But how will the two of them deal with it? Shizaya.


Izaya stared blankly at his reflection in the tall glass windows of his apartment, something like pain flickering through him. All of a sudden, he stretched a hand outward, placing his cool hand against the cold pane of glass.

"Why must I give in to these human urges?" He murmured.

Everything he was feeling lately just wasn't . . . him. The loneliness he had tried to hide behind hatred for a certain blond was threatening to resurface again.

Oh, wait; it already had.

He could be out prowling the night right now but something stopped him, his mind tentative in approaching anyone or anything. It was as if an open door had somehow closed, shutting his desires away from him, even if he didn't have many.

His mind was a rolling mix of emotions; loneliness, anger, despair, sadness, and something far deeper.

And he couldn't forget the fluttering in his chest at the very sight of Shizuo Heiwajima. What once firmly stood at the boundaries of _anger_ and _hatred _and turned into something softer, almost like a sleeping tiger going to a sleeping kitten.

And if he prodded them both enough, one of them might wake up and take notice.

Izaya withdrew his hand, glancing up at the waxed moon casting a luxurious blue glow across his azure body, red eyes glowing to create a picture one might see in a horror movie.

"Oh, Shizu-chan, how I hate you for doing this to me," he said, smiling lightly. Shizuo was, after all, responsible for anything and everything going haywire in his life.

And Izaya didn't know if the feeling within him was _hate_ or _arousal._

The brunette closed his eyes for a moment before a loud crash caused them to snap open. Without turning to inspect, he watched through the reflection of the glass window as his front door was flung open in a wide arc.

"Ah, Shizu-chan! Nice of you to join me! We were just talking about you, myself and I," he said, plastering a smug grin across his face.

Shizuo growled to himself, spitting his cigarette into the potted plant next to him. "Shut the fuck up, flea. You know why I'm here."

Actually, he didn't know himself. All he knew was that he _needed_ to see Izaya, the turbulent tension crashing through him in waves threatening to take over his consciousness. The images of the man kept dancing through his visions whenever he closed his eyes, even for a thin moment of solitude. It was as if he knew when Shizuo was most unexpecting him.

The emotions he'd been trying to hide were clashing in his mind, causing him to go slightly insane. Everything was taking a toll on him; work, Izaya, and even problems with his brother.

Shizuo had grown more unpredictable as he fought to understand the emotions, often resulting in him injuring people more then he meant to.

Man, he really did hate violence.

Ever since their last encounter nearly a week ago, all he had thought about was the blood sucking louse. It was almost as if he didn't despise him anymore.

This feeling wasn't like any he had ever felt. Something about it just seemed to _utterly_ foreign to him. Was it . . . _arousal?_

And as he thought deeper into it, he couldn't understand why they were fighting all the time. Why wasn't he fucking Izaya _senseless _every single chance he got?

Shizuo's new train of thought momentarily confused him; did he actually _want_ the flea? Did the way he stood staring at him, body outlined silver from the moon, really affect him in _that_ way?

A shutter of anger went through him as he saw a sharp smirk flicker across the greedy flea's face. Without really thinking, Shizuo rushed forward, lashing out at Izaya.

The brunette leaped delicately out of the way, stopping next to the bottom of his staircase. "Aw, Shizu-chan, it's no fun if you try to kill me every time we see each other."

"I wanna do something more to you and then I'll kill you," he mumbled to himself, facing the arrogant bastard. Hidden half in shadows, Shizuo swore it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen Izaya be.

"What was that, Shizu-chan?" Izaya smiled in the half-light, dancing over to the blond. He gave a smug smile, standing just out of reach from Shizuo's flexing hands.

He couldn't decide if he wanted to kill the flea now or wait until later.

Something inside of him wanted to reach out and smash the delicate man in front of him to pieces, but it was quickly being changed into something else as the war in his mind began to turn the tides.

All he wanted to do now was get Izaya alone.

Oh, they already were.

"None of your business, flea," he said, with less conviction than he intended.

Izaya smiled and ducked just below the blond's fist, leaping onto his desk and staring down at the flustered man.

Shizuo growled and swiped his hand to the side, not really expecting anything to come from the poorly aimed blow.

But his hand wrapped around the brunette's leg as he attempted to get away, a smirk flitting onto Shizuo's face as he yanked.

Izaya crashed to the floor, flickblade clattering off to the left, just out of his reach. The blond smirked as he placed a foot on the flea's chest, feeling his heart beat rapidly beneath him.

Something like anger flashed through the glowing red eyes below him but the flea didn't bother moving.

"What's wrong, _Izaya?_ Don't you want to fight me?" The blond gave a little shove with his foot, hearing a barely audible gasp.

Shizuo was enjoying being the one in control and for once, the flea wasn't sending remarks and sharp lashes of words at him. But it did strike the blond as odd that Izaya wasn't fighting back, not in the slightest.

Instead, he looked a little . . . tired?

Izaya sighed mentally, looking up at his captor. His mind felt a bit watery, but perhaps that was due to the fall he just had. The foot pressed down just a bit harder, the brunette flinching.

A strange look flickered across the blond's face and that's when Izaya regained his senses. Now it was time for him to assert some dominance.

"Aren't you going to kill me, Shizu-chan?" He smirked, grimacing as the foot nearly crushed his chest. It was getting slightly harder for him to breathe until he was suddenly hoisted up.

A gasp left him as he was slammed against the window, hearing a small crack.

"I . . . can't," a voice whispered, his aching mind barely catching the words. Breath coming in ragged gasps, Izaya closed his hands around the arm holding him above the ground. Did the man actually mean to kill him this time? He certainly wasn't letting go of him.

"What did you say?" The brunette whispered out hoarsely, clenching his fingers into the taut arms of his captor. His breath was running out, lungs screaming for air.

All of a sudden he was lying on the floor, Shizuo gazing out the window. He sucked in air in ragged gasps, head spinning as he tried to focus on the disturbingly quiet man.

Something sparkled, falling to the floor. Was Shizuo . . . crying?

"I can't." The voice was slightly louder as the blond man flattened his hand against the moon-washed window. "I can't kill you. I was hoping that I could, that one day you'd be lying dead in front of me. I've dreamed of it, and I've often come close. But every time I go to kill you . . . . I just _can't_. My body won't allow me to."

The brunette was dumbfounded. Shizuo had come to him for comfort? To be told everything was going to be okay? At least, that's what Izaya chose to decipher this as. Now that he actually thought of it, how many people had actually _offered _comfort to the large brute, save Kasuka? Izaya wanted to be one of the few.

The broker pulled himself onto his knees, using the desk to drag his feet into a standing position. Shizuo didn't glance at him but instead settled his eyes on the brunette's reflection. And then he did the unthinkable, wrapping his lithe arms around the taller man's neck, pressing himself against the broad back of the other.

Shizuo didn't fight back; he barely acknowledged the raven's advance. But he wanted this. He had always wanted this, no matter how much he denied it deep within himself. Shizuo wanted to be comforted by his rival, the one he was hopelessly in love with.

The moon silhouetted the two in the glass, Izaya reaching a hand up to brush the tears from his face. Love and hate walk a thin line. Wasn't that always the saying? He accepted the comfort and sagged against the raven, closing his eyes.

"Our reflections are here, right before us. The old us. Let's create a new story, just you and I," The blond man felt Izaya's words brush against his ear warmly, and for once, he relished the wonderful tone of his voice.

"Just name the setting and time and I'll be there."


End file.
